


A Trouble That Can't Be Named

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Ambiguous Relationships, Backstory, F/M, First Kiss, Genderswap, Kissing, Season/Series 04, Siblings, Sisters, girl!Dean, girl!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Closing walls and ticking clocks.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trouble That Can't Be Named

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**: Not mine, but I somehow don't think Kripke would lay claim to these versions, either.
> 
> **Author's note:** Title and summary from "[Clocks](http://lyricwiki.org/Coldplay:Clocks)," by Coldplay. Clearly Dean would not approve.

"I dragged you out of hell," Castiel says. "I can throw you back in." It's a threat, but completely uninflected, that unnerving flat affect with no regard for what it might happen to be stating.

A part of her roils, kicks, wants to spit in his face and tell him to to fuck himself because she owes nothing to no one, and he can toss her right back on in if he's got a problem with that somewhere up his angelic ass. Except that a bigger part, terrified, gibbers and begs, _Don't put me back there, please, I'll do anything. Anything._ And the sick part is, she knows she will.

She wakes up.

Time has passed. Seals have been broken. She's curled in on herself, pathetic, hugging her knees to her chest. It's early morning, light outside. Bobby's house is silent. Sam's asleep on the couch.

Deanna winds her way over to where Sam has managed to tuck her nearly six feet of body into an uncomfortable-looking huddle. She forces herself into a sitting position, muscles protesting, feeling old for thirty. Feeling old.

Sam doesn't wake; Deanna knows that from three decades of listening to her sister's breathing. But Sam turns, shuffles, flops out a hand and rests it in Deanna's hair. Deanna leans back against the sofa, careful not to dislodge those long, gentle fingers, and doesn't close her eyes.

|  
— • —  
|

 

They sit together on a park bench, leaves lifting and settling in the breeze. It should be nothing but pleasant, peaceful, except that nothing is peaceful anymore.

There's silence after Castiel speaks. They watch the leaves.

"Hey," Deanna says after a while, "how long you been in there, anyway?" Castiel looks blank, which could mean any number of things, and Deanna elaborates, "In that body, I mean."

"Only since I showed myself to you and your friend."

"So a little while." Deanna thinks that _a little while_ probably means something different to an angel than it does to a human, though. She turns, puts her hand on Castiel's knee, telegraphs everything like she would to a shy virgin. Castiel's eyes are wide and blue, but he doesn't move even when she kisses him, lightly to start out with, just her lips against his. "So probably no one did that yet, am I right?"

"I—" Castiel starts, then stops again. Deanna has to look away to keep from grinning. "I have the memories of my vessel."

"Yeah?"

"He was married. He…knew his wife."

"What happened to her?"

"She died. Young. She was not expected to live a long life, but she lived even more briefly than predicted."

"And so he prayed for this," says Deanna. It seems as reasonable as anything: selling a soul, praying for possession by an angel. Whatever works.

"He prayed for this," echoes Castiel.

"Hey," she says, "you know, it's great to remember the good parts, but they're nothing like the real deal."

This time, when they kiss, Castiel gasps, and his hands come to rest on her shoulders, on the back of her head. They press close, kissing until the air is cold and it's time to leave.


End file.
